


An Attorney's Bench

by belleuncleher



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Barba's death threats, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Original Character(s), post season 17/during season 18, trying to explain some of the shitty writing of s18 thru outside interactions lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:06:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9486485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belleuncleher/pseuds/belleuncleher
Summary: When the NYPD can no longer post protective detail for Rafael Barba after the ADA receives death threats, Det. Sonny Carisi volunteers to take over the weekend shift, free of charge. Both men find solace in each other's loneliness, but beyond the threats lies something more sinister in store for the DA's office and the NYPD.





	1. Chapter 1

Barba was falling. He knew he was falling as soon as hands connected with his shoulders, overcoming his balance and sending him airborne. There was a second when Barba’s feet left the ground and his body was propelled forward, a very brief second, where he thought he may be able to fly. Gravity won over wishes, and Barba saw the steps of the courthouse come closer and closer to his head. And so this is the end, he thought to himself, anticipating the sound of bone shattering on stone, the quick and unbearable flash of pain, the inevitable unconsciousness. _At least I die at the place that I love._

Barba awoke with a start and in a cold sweat. It took him a second to make himself familiar with his surroundings. He was not on the steps of the supreme court. He had not just taunted Felipe Heredio with his address, almost asking for the man to step up or shut up. No, that had all happened before. Barba had walked away from that encounter, to be cornered in an elevator by the same man with similar threats a couple of days later. Barba was alive and well, as well as could be considered for a man plagued by constant anxiety and stress. He was currently in his bed drenched in nervous perspiration, safe, surrounded by surveillance supplied by New York’s Finest. No harm could come to him while he was at his apartment, he had been assured. As long as the threats kept coming to Barba, detail would be posted outside his door.

Barba supposed that fact was supposed to make him feel better, safer, but instead, it bothered him. He had to admit, he was not the most hospitable of people, so his relationship with his detail was strained at best. He couldn’t even remember the name of the man who was supposed to be on surveillance that night. Barba let out a dry chuckle as he wiped the sweat from his brow. How could he be sure that he was safe if he didn’t even know his detail’s name, much less their loyalty? Perhaps this could be the time to remedy that issue, Barba thought to himself as he rolled out of bed. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon, not after that nightmare. He needed a cup of tea to calm his nerves. Maybe the officer would enjoy a tea as well, with some measured pleasantries as a side.

The dark always seemed more sinister on the weekend, Barba noted, passing by the large window in his living room. This time of night was always familiar to him on the weekdays. He’d be up well past midnight, pouring over affidavits and evidence logs, looking for inconsistencies in witnesses’ testimonies. He had grown acquainted with this dark during the week, but on a Saturday night-- or early morning Sunday-- the dark seemed less like an old friend and more like a threat. Barba switched on the lamp on the coffee table as he passed by to alleviate some anxiety.

During the week, two officers would be posted as protective detail. One officer would be standing outside the door to Barba’s personal apartment, while the other would watch the entrance to his building. Budget cuts and low desirability for the job led to only one officer on the weekends, stationed outside the building. Barba poured himself a mug of tea and filled a thermos with the rest. He donned a jacket over his pajamas, slid on a pair of shoes, grabbed his keys, and made his way to the elevator.

Barba did have to note that he felt safe in his apartment. It had been his ever since he moved to the Manhattan DA’s office from Brooklyn, and the community was nice. He had been there long enough to see his neighbor’s children go from a loud childhood to a quieter pre-adolescence, long enough to see new relationships flourish and fail. He was a spectator in the activity of the building, but it was nice, comforting to watch the certainty of the lives of other people. Even though his own life was a whirlwind of uncertainty, a hurricane of could be's and maybe's, consistency was welcome. Even if it was with something as simple as the greeting of the doorman as Barba stepped out of the elevator and made his way out of the building.

As soon as Barba’s feet hit the concrete, he knew something was wrong. The New York air had a different edge to it, almost a foreign taste. He instinctively looked around the street, searching for the welcome navy blue of the uniformed officer under the yellow haze of a streetlamp, but he only saw cars lining the block. A wave of trepidation washed over Barba, and he felt his hands go cold, even holding two cups of scalding tea. Where was the officer? If the officer couldn’t keep himself outside the apartment, who was keeping Barba from being whisked out of the apartment as well?

A groan broke through the still air. Barba’s head whipped to the direction of the noise’s source, and finally, his eyes were met with the blue he knew so well after working with law enforcement his entire life. A male police officer, around fifty years old and definitely on the heavier side, was slumped across a park bench, his arm clenching the side of his chest. Barba rushed over to the man, noting the gray tinge to the man’s skin and the sweat pouring down his face despite the temperature being closer to 40 degrees than 60. The man’s eyes were open and looked glassy, but once they spotted Barba, they flashed with recognition. “Counselor,” the officer said with labored breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“No worries,” Barba replied quickly, assessing the man, although there were definitely many worries. First of all, what happened to the officer that would incapacitate him like this? Was it an attack from a civilian, or was he having some sort of physical ailment? Barba put down the thermos next to the officer on the bench, pulling out his phone from the jacket pocket. He thought about calling Olivia first but then thought better of it. This officer, Officer Kevin Maheny, Barba noted, looking at the uniform, was in danger and a lieutenant with a kid wasn’t about to drop everything in the early hours of a Sunday morning to help an officer down. Or maybe she would. Which gave Barba even more pause when thinking of calling her.

Instead, he deftly dialed 911 and tried to explain the situation calmly to the dispatcher. His voice was frayed, though, despite the even tone he tried to measure his voice to. “Is there anyone else around you?” the dispatcher asked Barba, probably noting the man’s discomfort. Barba looked around. The street was still empty and still, unusually so for a street this far into the city. He told the dispatcher he was alone. “Alright, well stay on the phone with me until the authorities arrive. How is Officer Maheny doing now?”

Barba looked at the slumped figure. The man’s breaths were shallow but consistent, and a little more color was beginning to show in his face. “Officer, how are you feeling?” Barba reached out to place a hand on the officer’s shoulders but then thought better of it. There was no response. “Officer?” Nothing. “He’s not responding to me,” Barba conveyed through the phone, his voice breaking.

“Sir, there’s no need to worry, the authorities are on their way.”

Barba listened, hoping to hear police sirens pierce the quiet of the night. The foreign silence of the street was deafening. No sirens, no cars, nothing but a faint pounding of footsteps on pavement. Footsteps pounding on pavement. Barba watched as a man came sprinting up the pavement, phone to his ear, his limbs all-but flailing throughout the run. “Counselor? Are you alright?” The distinct Staten Island drawl cut through the air as a pink-faced, out of breath Detective Sonny Carisi came to a halt in front of Barba. “I heard the dispatch go out, and I was close by….” Carisi looked at Barba, assessing the situation. “Where’s your detail.”

Barba wordlessly motioned to the bench where Maheny remained, unconscious. Carisi jumped, just now noting the incapacitated man. “What happened? How long has he been like this?”

“Since I came outside, at least,” Barba responded, calmer now that a familiar face was on the scene. “Ten minutes at least.” He watched as Carisi didn’t hesitate to reach out to Maheny, checking the man’s pulse, his eyes, his person. Everything seemed to be in order on the officer’s uniform at least, Barba noted. There would be hell to pay if while Maheny was indisposed, someone stole a taser or gun that was property of NYPD.

“I think he’s suffering some sort of attack,” Carisi noted, half to Barba, half to himself.

“Astute observation, Doctor Carisi,” Barba responded, and he realized that he was still connected to the 911 dispatcher. “Hello? NYPD is on the scene now, someone else is here,” Barba informed the dispatcher. “How long until the ambulance is here?” As soon as those words left his mouth, the sharp sound of an ambulance siren ambushed the air, and Barba sighed in relief as the ambulance turned onto his street.

The next twenty minutes were an absolute blur. Barba watched wordlessly as Officer Maheny was loaded into the ambulance and sped away, watched as Carisi gave his name and title to the police officers who showed up, giving them the story of what had happened. Carisi also explained Barba’s situation to the officers, who were jotting down everything on a little white pad that Barba knew would go on a police report, to be filed away for eternity. “This is ADA Rafael Barba, Maheny was his surveillance, the ADA was the one who found him.”

“Surveillance?” the new officer questioned, pencil poised to write.

“Yes.” Barba broke his silence. “The fine detectives over at the Special Victims Unit have decided that I can no longer look after myself.” Barba’s gaze met Carisi, who was glaring at him. “Not that I disagree.”

Carisi held up a hand to halt any more questions. “Anything else, officers? I gotta call up my lieutenant and report this. Maheny was one of our own.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else, Detective,” the officer responded, pocketing the pencil and paper. “counselor, we’ll be in touch if needed.”

“I doubt it,” Barba muttered, loud enough for both Carisi and the other officer to hear. The officer looked at Barba, confused for a second, quickly decided that she didn’t care enough to pursue, and walked away.

Carisi turned to Barba, hands on his hips, his look demanding answers. “Listen, I’m gonna call up Liv and tell her what happened, but before I do, you need to tell me everything that happened.” Carisi accented the last couple of words with a pointed gesture, and Barba rolled his eyes.

“Ok, look. I got up in the middle of the night, thought it might be nice to offer Officer Mulaney a cup of tea-”

“Officer Maheny.” Carisi quickly corrected.

“-Maheny a cup of tea, I came outside and found him lying on the bench. Called 911 like a good citizen. That’s all.” Barba moved to cross his arms but realized he was still holding the tea in his hands. “You wouldn’t happen to want tea now, would you?”

“Thanks, but I’m good, Counselor.” Carisi paused. “Why did you come outside in the middle of the night? You’d be exposed, especially on the nights where we have only one officer as part of your detail.”

“One officer taken out by a heart attack you mean.”

Carisi let out a humorless chuckle. “Right. Well, I gotta call Liv.”

For a second, Barba thought that Carisi might leave, which sent a wave of icy cold anxiety through his body. “Wait, Carisi- why don’t you come up to my apartment. You can call Liv there. And you said you don’t want tea, but do you want something else to drink? Coffee maybe?”

Barba watched as the detective debated the offer. On one hand, it was against probably against protocol for Carisi to go up to Barba’s apartment without his protective detail, as well as the fact that detectives rarely made visits to ADA’s homes. On the other hand, the night was particularly cold, and a cup of coffee was always an appealing offer. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a cup.” Barba led Carisi inside, past the doorman who had remained unfazed by the arrival of half a dozen cop cars and an ambulance right outside his building, and up his elevator. “This is a nice building,” Carisi commented, gazing at his reflection in the gold elevator doors. Barba nodded but remained silent.

When they got to his floor, Barba unlocked and opened the door, and he strode over to the kitchen to deposit the still full thermos and mug of half-frozen tea. Barba turned back around and saw Carisi standing in the doorway, hesitantly, hands in his pockets. “The apartment doesn’t bite, detective.” Barba walked over to the closet by the door to hang up his coat and remove his shoes. “Come in and call Liv.”

As Carisi took his call in the living room, Barba popped a cup in the Keurig coffee maker and watched as the brown liquid streamed out, steaming. He thought about forgoing coffee himself-- it wouldn’t help him with his problem sleeping-- but decided to drink a cup anyway. He doctored the coffees, adding cream and sugar, and he walked out to the living room where Carisi was still on the phone. “Yeah, Lieu, no problem. We’ll discuss it on Monday… Thanks. And sorry for waking you up this early….You too... Have a good night.”

“Did Olivia sufficiently reprimand you for waking her up at this ungodly hour?” Barba laughed as Carisi jumped, clearly startled by the fact that Barba was able to sneak into a room without him noticing.

“No, she was more upset with the fact that we don’t have protective detail for you on the weekends anymore, Counselor.”

“Well, that reassures me,” Barba responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He held out a mug to Carisi, who took it with a nod.

“Don’t worry, Counselor. We’re gonna find you protection. I promise.” Carisi took a sip from the mug and immediately made a face. “Woah… how much sugar do you put in here?”

“Do you not like my coffee, Carisi?” Barba’s voice was on edge, but he was doing so only to make Carisi squirm. He knew he liked his coffee sweeter than most people. He should have asked Carisi how he took his coffee.

“Nah, it’s fine. Just a little sweeter than I’m used to is all.” Carisi took another sip, trying to hide his distaste.

“Why were you in my neighborhood tonight, detective?” Barba asked, taking a seat in the armchair that sat facing the large window that dominated the living room. Carisi looked for an invitation to sit as well, but Barba just stared back at the blond detective pointedly, waiting for a response.

Carisi decided to sit anyway, placing his coffee on the table in front of the couch. “I was, uh, at a coffee shop, doing some extra reading to stay sharp. Even if I’m not gonna immediately go into law, I still want to maintain some degree of knowledge, you know?” Barba nodded, thinking. Carisi looked caught off guard. Usually, Barba would fire back with some quip about Carisi not being an adequate lawyer or making fun of night school, but Barba remained silent. “What about you, Counselor?” Carisi asked, cautiously.

“What do you mean ‘what about me?’” Barba smirked. “Why was I in my neighborhood or am I still trying to maintain some degree of knowledge in law?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Carisi quickly corrected. “No, I meant why were you up this late?”

“Isn’t that a personal question, detective?” Barba asked, a smile that could’ve easily been a grimace on his face. Carisi went pink and murmured an apology, going back to the coffee. Barba reconsidered his initial response, and he decided for some reason that he wanted Carisi to know the truth. “I had a dream where I was killed.”

Carisi finished his sip of coffee and looked back up at Barba, thoughtfully. Barba waited for a response, but Carisi was poised to listen, not narrate. “Felipe Heredio,” Barba continued, his voice thin. “Back during the Munsen trial, when I was getting threats from him, he threatened to push me down the steps of the court and watch as my skull broke in pieces in front of everyone. So in my dream, I was falling. When I woke up, I didn’t feel safe.” Barba shrugged, but avoided eye contact with the detective, instead turning his gaze to the contents of the mug. “I realized I don’t know anyone who is watching me, who’s in charge of my life. I decided to go out and maybe figure out who Maheny was, to get to know him a little better. Looks like that’s a missed opportunity.”

Carisi was silent for a second, choosing his words carefully. “Counselor, it’s completely normal to feel unsafe, but realize that SVU, that nobody's gonna let anyone even get close to you.”

“What, you’re gonna assign another officer to sit outside my window every night who can’t take care of themselves, much less the life of another person?” Barba knew that it wasn’t fair, especially this soon after the events of that night, but he felt exposed, each nerve like a live wire.

“That’s not--” Carisi struggled to think of a response, and once again, Barba looked at him pointedly, daring the other man to look away. Carisi sighed and stared back at Barba, blue eyes meeting green. “Alright. Well, you have a point. There is no one to keep an eye on you now, so how’s about I do it?” Carisi stood up, abandoning his coffee on the table. “I’m more than able to keep an eye on you until we get someone here for tomorrow. Thanks for the coffee.” Carisi left for the door, and Barba watched the detective, almost awestruck. He knew he should say something, stop Carisi from going out the door like that, but Barba didn’t feel it in him. Barba finished his coffee, and he went to retrieve Carisi’s cup to place in the sink along with the abandoned tea. As he left the living room, he stole a glance out of the window and saw blond hair lit up by the yellow light of the streetlamp above the bench. Carisi had his hands burrowed in his pockets and was glancing up and down the street, looking as if he was daring someone, anyone to come and test him.

Maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was the crash after the rush of adrenaline, but Barba felt almost secure and relaxed gazing out at Carisi. After the crazed events of that night, Barba just wanted to lie down for a minute, regain his bearings. As he sank into his bed, hesitantly, Barba’s mind was still racing. The last thought he had before surrendering to much-needed sleep was the image of Carisi, under the street light, light bouncing off his hair almost as if it were a halo.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Sonny didn’t mind the cold. He didn’t mind the quiet nights. He didn’t mind sitting outside, watching cars pass by, assessing the threat of each vehicle, recalling if that black sedan was the same black sedan that had passed by an hour ago. The only thing that Sonny really minded was being alone. 

Sonny’s first year at SVU wasn’t bad. He didn’t mind coming home everyday to his brand-spanking-new apartment, cooking dinner, and heading over to the Bronx on the subway to go to class. For the first time in his life, it was nice to be alone, nice to be away from his huge family, nice to be independent, and nice to be busy. Plus, after some of the stuff that Sonny saw at SVU on a daily basis, sometimes it was nice to have time to decompress and process on his own. 

When Bella moved to Manhattan with Tommy, things started to change. Bella would invite Sonny over to dinner all the time, Sonny helped set up his niece’s nursery, he came by to keep Bella company when Tommy was out working a long weekend. Being at Bella’s reminded Sonny how much he missed company. He found it harder to go back to his empty apartment after that. 

When Bella had the kid, Sonny went over less often. Sure, he was there every couple of weeks to see his niece, Gabriella, but Bella was busy bonding with the kid, and Sonny didn’t want to get in the way. 

It was nice when a member of the squad invited Sonny out after work, to dinner or to get drinks or anything else. Sonny had to admit that things got a little easier once Amaro moved away-- Sonny always liked Amaro, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get Amaro to like him. He invited Amaro out bowling one time with his Fordham buddies, but the detective shot him down. Sonny took the hint after that. But once Amaro left the precinct, Rollins opened up to Sonny, inviting him over to her place to have dinner, introducing him to shitty reality shows. As Sonny was completing his last classes of night school, it was nice to finally have a friend in the precinct. 

Things got crazy when Rollins got pregnant. Sonny was over at Rollins’ all the time, making her dinner, seeing how she was doing, helping her get ready for the new baby. Rollins made it real clear from the beginning that the dad wasn’t in the picture, and Sonny could imagine how hard being a single mom could be, especially when preparing for the baby. Spending time with Amanda outside the precinct was one thing when Amanda was pregnant, but things got even better when Jesse was born. Sonny was absolutely beside himself when Amanda asked Sonny to be Jesse’s godfather. Amanda reminded him so much of his sisters, and having dinner with Jesse and Amanda almost felt like he had never left Staten Island and his family. 

After the Munsen case and Dodds passing away, the dynamic at the precinct changed. Liv started to go home earlier, spend more time with Tucker. Fin dropped hints about spending more time with his son, something about his son and his son’s partner starting a family, but Amanda pulled away and started spending more time alone with Jesse. Sonny knew that people reacted differently when faced with death, that people cling to their loved ones above anything else. But with Amanda gone and the rest of his family an hour and a half commute away on a good day, Sonny was alone again. And he hated it. 

When Barba asked Sonny why he was in the neighborhood, Sonny had to think of a lie. He had recently been consumed with Barba’s case, getting updates on every new threat, every alarm, every new suspect. When Dodds was killed, it almost seemed as if everyone else in the precinct forgot about the threats levelled against their ADA. Liv made sure to assign protective detail, they arrested and arraigned Felipe Heredio, but not a lot was done after that. Sonny didn’t have to do a lot during the nights anymore, and after three years of night school, his sleep schedule was basically fucked, and so he sometimes he decided to take walks around Barba’s neighborhood, to check in with the officers on Barba’s detail, to make sure that someone in his life was still safe. 

That night, Sonny was on his way to check in with Maheny, to see how the older officer was doing. The last times that Sonny had talked to Maheny, Maheny had told Sonny about sending his first kid off to college, about how hard it was to be away on weekends when soon his baby would be off at university, and he wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. Sonny guessed that the extra stress had taken a toll on him. Sonny should have suggested that Maheny put in a request to be taken off of Barba’s security detail, to spend more time with his kid. When the EMTs came to pick Maheny up, they said it looked like the man would make it, but if he didn’t, Sonny knew that it would be on him. 

Another black sedan drove by Barba’s building slowly, attracting Sonny’s attention. Sonny eyed the car as it rolled past, taking out his phone. Once the car had completely passed the building, Sonny snapped a picture of the license plate on his phone. It was a different license plate from the car before, but a detective can never be too cautious. As he was putting his phone away, the ringer dinged. A text from Liv popped up on his phone.  _ Replacement officer en route to relieve you.  _ Sonny nodded and moved to pocket his phone when it dinged again.  _ Thank you for taking over, Carisi. You’re a good cop. And a good friend.  _

Sonny chuckled at that. He knew that Liv was referring to his relationship with Barba, but Sonny wasn’t sure he’d call it a friendship. They were  _ friendly, _ which was more than what he could say back when he first joined SVU. Sonny remembered how eager he was to impress the DA, showing off his knowledge from law school, asking for tips after a trial, even offering Barba a cannoli one time. Barba declined with a shrewd remark, the same way he’d react whenever Sonny reached out. “Maybe you want to be a little less obvious sometime?” Amanda suggested once when Sonny complained about Barba’s animosity towards him. Sonny asked her what she meant, but Amanda just shot back a look that Sonny swore he’d seen on his sister, Gina’s, face a thousand times.  _ You’re not fooling anyone Carisi. _

Sonny had never been fantastic about hiding his feelings. His mother once told him that he was an open book when she’d catch him in a lie. Not a particularly great skill for a detective, Sonny knew, but sometimes wearing his heart on his sleeve had its benefits. Although, learning to speak and act with a filter was something he had to learn quick when he transferred to Manhattan. 

Barba wasn’t so hostile to Sonny anymore. Sonny couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that Barba stopped despising him, but he thought it was right around the Rudnick case. Sonny combed through every piece of evidence they had to pin the murder on the Deputy Chief Medical Examiner, and he was the one to finally find Rudnick’s unconscious confession. The whole squad gave him a pat on the back for catching that one, and once Barba had hammered out a plea deal with the defense, he came up to Sonny and acknowledged him. “Not bad, Carisi.” That was all Sonny got for saving Barba’s ass. “Not bad.”

After that, Barba’s taunts became less inimical, and Sonny even got the impression that Barba might even have a grudging respect for him. For the first time ever, Sonny heard Barba tell him that he was right, or that he had done a good job. Barba even let him shadow with him on the Lewis Hodda trial, answering every question that Sonny had about the chain of events a trial might take. When Sonny passed the bar, he so ecstatic that he went over to Barba’s office with a box of pastries-- this time without cannolis-- to say thank you. Carmen, Barba’s secretary, told Sonny that Barba was busy when he showed up, but she could pencil Sonny in next if he wanted to wait a couple of minutes. The thought of waiting outside for Barba to give him zeppole made him balk, and so he left them with Carmen instead, telling her not to say that they were from him, but just to tell Barba thank you. “Feel free to have a couple as well if you want,” Sonny added, before heading back to the precinct. Barba never said anything about the pastries to Sonny after that, and Sonny never mentioned them himself, but Carmen did text Sonny the next week.  _ Mr. Barba liked the pastries. He asked me where the nearest Italian bakery was so he could get more zeppole.  _ Sonny’s chest felt warm after reading that text, and he caught himself rereading it at least three times that day.

Despite his score with the pastries, Sonny still couldn’t figure out where he stood with Barba. The ADA was the type of guy who would offer you coffee and insult your occupation in the same minute. Sonny was still going over their encounter in his head, trying to figure out why the hell Barba was out on the street that late at night when he knew that he had a target on his head. But when he was up in Barba’s apartment, the older man spoke to Sonny with candidly. Sonny could understand the nightmares. He’d had enough of them-- dying on the job, watching his partner die on the job, watching the witness he was protecting die despite his best efforts. Fear of death seemed to be something that both he and Barba shared, although that wasn’t as unique a connection as Sonny might make it out to be. 

Sonny looked up to the fifth floor of the building behind him, up to the big window that was the center of Barba’s apartment. The curtains were drawn, but the lights were off. Barba had to have gone back to bed, back to a restless and anxious sleep. Sonny was beginning to feel the weight of sleeplessness himself. The sun was beginning to rise, and the sky was changing from the dark blue to light gray of a Manhattan dawn. As Sonny stifled a yawn, a taxi pulled up on the street, and an officer stepped out of the car. Sonny recognized the cop, Jessica Tryniski, from the precinct; she was always the ones who looked out for the victims, asked them if they needed to call any family or if they needed anything to drink before the detectives got in there to question them. Sonny breathed a sigh of relief. It was good that he could leave Barba’s protection to someone he trusted. 

“Hey Detective Carisi,” Tryniski greeted Sonny with a smile and a wave. “How was holding down the fort? Anyone personally come for Barba’s head when they knew it was just a detective watching him?”

Sonny laughed. He knew that a lot of cops didn’t like Barba, at least not since the Terrence Reynolds indictments. Barba even had mentioned some half-baked theory of cops being the ones behind this whole scheme, but Sonny knew that Tryniski wouldn’t be a problem. “Give me a little credit, Officer,” Sonny responded, clutching his chest, mock-wounded. “Hey, before you start your shift, do you want me to run down to the bodega down the street and get you a cup of coffee and maybe a bagel?” The offer of food wasn’t only for Tryniski. The last thing that Sonny had was Barba’s coffee that tasted like heated up coffee ice cream, that’s how sweet it was. A good cup of coffee and a muffin would do wonders to get that taste out of his mouth. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Tryniski responded, taking a seat next to Sonny on the bench. “Two creams, no sugar in the coffee please.”

“Any favorite bagel?”

“Surprise me.” 

“Will do,” Sonny responded, getting up off the bench. It felt wonderful to stretch his legs after sitting on the cold metal for such a long time. “I’ll be right back.”

Sonny thought began to head out to the bodega that he knew was a block up from Barba’s apartment but had a thought. He looked up to Barba’s window again and thought he registered a slight movement in the window. He might as well head up to Barba’s apartment, see how he was doing, and ask him if he wanted coffee while he was at it. Sonny walked into the building, identified himself to the doorman, who had recognized him from that night’s fiasco, flashed him his badge for good measure, and headed up the elevator to Barba’s apartment. 

Sonny barely knocked on Barba’s door before it was flung open. A messy-haired Barba stood in the doorframe, his eyes red and sunken, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. “What do you want, Carisi?” Barba asked, his voice abrasive. 

“Sorry to wake you, Counselor, I just wanted to let you know that everything went routinely last night, and this morning, Officer Jessica Tryniski is your detail.” Sonny paused to see if Barba wanted to respond. The man looked back at Sonny, his eyebrows raised and a look of utter disinterest on his face. The look Barba was shooting Sonny would have been classic Barba had the DA’s hair not been an absolute mess, ruining the whole superior image. “I, uh, just wanted to see if there was anything you needed from me before I headed out. I’m about to head down to the bodega down the road to grab a cup of joe and maybe a muffin. Can I get anything for you?”

“An enticing offer, Carisi, but I can make my own coffee,” Barba smirked. 

“Alright, well if you need anything, Officer Tryniski is on the street, and you know how to reach me or Liv if anything happens right?” Sonny turned to head back down the elevator. “And if anything happens to Officer Tryniski, try to tell Liv or the squad so we don’t have to pick it up through a police scanner?”

“I think there would be something more worrying if two of your officers went down in less than twelve hours, Carisi. It’s not me you should be worried about at that point. It’s the state of NYPD.” Barba shot him a look and shut the door. Sonny rolled his eyes. Barba always had to have the last word, even if it was after someone expressing concern or sympathy or any type of care for him. Sonny decided to cut his losses, get the coffee, and then head uptown to his own bed where he could surrender to sleep. 

The rest of the weekend plagued Sonny with a thought-- a thought about the stability of the NYPD. Liv was loath to admit it, but finding officers who would take overtime to watch after Barba was becoming a harder and harder task, especially with officers being sent off to the hospital in the middle of the night. And there was the matter of Barba’s own suspicions about the origins of his threats. Liv cleared every officer before they were assigned to Barba’s protective detail, but what if there was a bias against the DA who indicted the officers who shot Terrence Reynolds. Even the slightest sliver of doubt in protecting Barba could put Barba in danger, a moment of hesitation in a split second decision could land Barba in the hospital, or somewhere even worse that Sonny didn’t even want to begin to think about. 

By the time Sonny walked into the precinct on Monday morning, he’d made his decision. He marched over to Liv’s office and knocked, just as she was taking off her jacket and settling down. “Hey, Lieutenant, can I speak to you a second?”

“Yeah, what’s up Carisi?”

Sonny walked into the office, closing the door behind him. Liv raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her coffee, gesturing for Sonny to take a seat. “It’s about this weekend and Barba-”

“Of course. Thank you again for taking over Carisi. I’m sure Barba appreciates it, even if he won’t say so himself.”

“Well, I mean about that, Lieu, has there been an officer assigned for permanent weekend detail yet?”

Liv shook her head, and she looked at Sonny, puzzled. “Officer Tryniski took over this weekend, I haven’t spoken to her yet to ask if she wants permanent assignment. Why?”

Sonny nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, now avoiding eye contact with Liv. “It’s just that, I know that the department is short-staffed, and we’re all still recovering after Sergeant Dodds-” Liv made a noise, but Sonny plowed through. “If no one else wants to do it, I will.”

“What are you saying, Carisi? You want to be assigned to Barba duty all weekend?” 

“No, I mean- Well….” Sonny’s words got caught in his throat, and he looked up at Liv. She stared back, urging him to answer her questions. Sonny got the acute sensation that maybe they should be on the other side of the wall, on the other side of that two way mirror. He took a deep breath and came clean- or at least the cleanest he could come to his commanding officer. “Look, with what happened with Maheny this weekend, we got lucky. Anyone coulda come in and made good on their threat, right? I just feel like maybe we could all sleep better at night if we knew that someone we trusted was keeping one of our own safe.”

Liv looked at Sonny, considering his explanation. He knew his face had gone pink, but he sat there and maintained eye contact with Liv, willing her to say yes, to not ask any more questions, to just let Sonny make sure Barba was okay. “I mean it’s up to you, Carisi. If you want to sacrifice your weekends to be protective detail, I sure as hell can’t stop you.” Sonny nodded, a grin starting to form on his face. “I mean, I could try,” Liv continued. “But it seems that you’d be around the neighborhood anyways.” 

Sonny opened his mouth, ready to ask what she meant, but no words came out. Liv looked at him in amusement. “Anything else, Carisi?” Sonny shook his head, deciding to cut his losses. “Alright, well I’ll go ahead and let Barba know about the change in detail. Get back to work, Carisi.”

As Sonny headed back to his desk, he felt his chest grow warm. He no longer had to worry about the integrity of the cops watching Barba on the weekends, and it would feel nice to have a purpose after work again. So he’d still be alone. He’d now be alone and on the job rather than being alone in his apartment, watching reruns of Friends past midnight. He looked back at Liv’s office, pondering her response “ _ I sure as hell can’t stop you.”  _ Sonny wore his heart on his sleeve, but sometimes, that wasn’t always a bad thing. 


	3. Chapter 3

“What the hell, Liv?” Barba asked as soon as the lieutenant of SVU updated him on his security detail for the next month. “Carisi? Have you absolutely lost your mind?”

“Thank you for your concern, Barba,” Olivia responded, her voice barely controlling what Barba knew was a smile on the other end of the phone line. “My mental state is fine, and you will be fine as well. Carisi is more than able and willing to be a part of your protective detail on the weekends, which is more than I can say for half of the NYPD.”

Barba rubbed his temples, his mind racing. Carisi being there when an officer was down was one thing, but having to deal with Carisi weekend upon weekend was another. Barba felt his pulse quicken, and he shook his head. This news shouldn’t be affecting him as much as it was, but he was under stress, under threats, and having an overly eager, newly instated member of the Bar playing babysitter to Barba wasn’t boding well with him. Barba closed his eyes and played his last card. “Look, maybe it’s time to discuss the matter of actually having a personal detail. I haven’t been approached since Heredio was put away, and I haven’t been getting texts or hang ups anymore. If we’re being pragmatic, it’s time to ditch the detail and continue like none of this ever happened to begin with.”

The other line was silent for a moment, and Barba straightened up in his chair, almost tasting victory. “Are you kidding me?” Olivia’s voice cut through the phone, the smile that Barba heard before now completely gone. “Have _you_ lost your mind? You either have to be joking or completely off your case if you think I’m going to fall for that, Barba. Do you not remember that we still have your phone tapped? You received a threat from a burner phone two hours ago.”

Barba’s Blackberry felt heavier in his pocket as the contents of the phone were being discussed. It was true. He had received a text from a number he didn’t recognize. _Heard the last officer watching you almost died on the job. Next time, you won’t be so lucky._ If Barba knew he was going to discuss this text with any of his colleagues, he would brush the contents off, instead choosing to pick apart the message for grammatical errors. “You would think they would proofread these before they sent them out,” Barba would scoff. “Especially if they knew half of SVU would be reading them.”

“Barba, I know this isn’t ideal. I know you like your privacy. But Carisi has been briefed, and I trust him. I know you do too.” Olivia paused and then sighed, conciliatory. “If you can’t stand him by the end of the first weekend, I'll reassign someone else to your case, and I'll tell Carisi to get a life outside of the job. Is that fair?”

Barba contained a groan and uttered a muffled affirmation into the receiver. “I doubt that you have such a shortage in your department that Carisi has to follow me around like a lapdog on the weekends,” he followed up, not letting Liv get her victory that early.

“I think you misunderstood me, Barba,” Olivia replied, the smile back in her voice. “When I said that Carisi was willing, I meant that he volunteered.” The muted click that Barba heard on the other end of the call confirmed that Olivia had hung up. Barba’s jaw dropped, speechless. Yes, he knew that Carisi liked to follow him around, that he liked to bother Barba with his half-cocked opinions from night school, but this transcended plain badgering. Instead of being the thorn in his side that pestered him for months, Carisi was now trying to be Barba’s shield…. Barba shook his head, a rude awakening from his thoughts. He was thinking too much into it. Carisi had a stupid, stubborn sense of pride and honor. The only thing that this amounted to was Carisi trying to be selfless to feed some sort of savior complex, nothing else.

Barba had almost put the whole change in detail ordeal out of his mind for the rest of his week. Truth be told, he didn’t mind the protection during the week. The dark blue uniforms faded into the gray of the Manhattan sidewalk and buildings, and once he was in court, they were just other members of the audience in the gallery. It was only when Barba’s work came to a halt and Friday afternoon turned into the reality of Friday night did the detail bother him. Barba trudged up to his apartment with an officer, waited for the man to all clear his apartment and wish him a good night, and then Barba locked the door, made his way over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a finger of scotch. He brought the glass to his lips, reconsidered, and made it two fingers of scotch instead. It had been a long week.

Barba reclined on the sofa, kicking off his shoes. He would have to inspect them later for scuffs to see if he needed to polish them, but now was the time to put his feet up and relax. He pulled out his Blackberry, out of habit, and opened his email inbox, swiping through unread email after unread email. Most of them were just procedural emails, witness testimonies, reports on medical examinations and such, but a lot of the emails were spam. Barba didn’t know how companies who sent out spam messages could have even got ahold of his work email, but nevertheless, he found himself deleting emails with subject lines like “HOT NEW SINGLES IN YOUR AREA” and “NINETEEN THINGS THE GOVERNMENT DOESN’T WANT YOU TO KNOW.” Barba didn’t care about government secrets. He had enough of his own to deal with.

Barba opened up a folder in his inbox marked “starred.” This was the one part of his life that wasn’t under surveillance from the NYPD or anyone else. He had to argue with Olivia that it would be a conflict of interest if officers had access to information in the DA office, and that this information was already highly securitized in and of itself. She backed down when she realized that Barba was being completely serious, not just stubborn. Barba’s argument was well-founded, but there was also a personal motivation in keeping his email private.

Barba didn’t know how spam senders got his email address, and he sure as hell didn’t know how the people threatening his life got his email either. The starred folder housed hundreds of emails, all from untraceable accounts, with varying levels of threats within them. Some listed sensitive details of cases that Barba was working on with the subsequent threat to leak these secrets to the other side-- or worse, the press. Others contained image upon image of Barba doing his everyday tasks: a picture of him sipping coffee outside of his favorite bodega, a picture of him emerging from the SVU precinct, a photo of him staring out of his window in his office, a picture of him speaking with Felipe Heredio on the steps of the courthouse. Barba paused on that last one, searching for answers. He spotted Olivia and Dodds standing in the background, engaged in an argument with one of the union leaders. He saw dozens of members of the CO union staring at him, daring Heredio to make good on his threat and push Barba to his death. His eyes landed on Heredio’s face, a cocky smirk smeared across it. The picture wasn’t high resolution, so he couldn’t see Heredio’s eyes, but Barba could imagine them glinting, almost laughing at him.

Barba locked his phone and closed his eyes, trying to dispel the image of the courthouse steps from his mind, but he could only see Heredio, taunting him, threatening him, reaching out and grabbing him. He only saw Heredio pull him in close, whisper _Vete al infierno,_ and he felt as he was shoved away, pushed off of his feet, once again airborne. Barba could only see as the white marble steps came closer and closer to his face, promising pain upon impact….

Barba awoke once again with a start, his heart racing. His hands were curled in a tight grip on the seat of his couch, and he cursed inwardly, knowing that it would ruin the leather. Barba took in a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm down, to slow his pulse. He took a look around his apartment, reorienting himself. His phone was on the ground next to the couch, and Barba reached down to pick it up. _9 new messages._ Barba sighed and looked at the time. _9:10 AM._ He let out a small laugh. Barba couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually slept through the night. Of course, he didn’t feel any more well-rested than he had getting off of work, but it was a small victory.

Barba got off of the couch and made his way over to his coffee maker, filling the pot with water and coffee grounds. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he stretched, listening to the cracks and pops his back and joints made. He chastised himself for falling asleep on the couch- he’d be feeling that for the rest of the day thanks to the crick in his neck.

Barba poured the coffee into a mug, mixing in a generous amount of cream and sugar. He thought back to the prior weekend and Carisi’s critiques on his coffee and smirked. Sure, he could drink black coffee just like any other New Yorker, but why force something burning and acrid down your throat of your own volition. No, Barba preferred his coffee light and sweet, just how his _abuelita_ used to make whenever he went over to her apartment.

Barba’s phone buzzed again. _10 new messages._ He brought the mug to his lips, taking a long sip of coffee, and he unlocked his phone. Six of the messages were just normal business from the DA, a couple were from Olivia, reminding him if anything happened, not to hesitate to call her. The last two were from Carisi. _Hey Counselor, just started my post outside. Feel free to text me or call me if you need anything._ Barba checked the timestamp on that message. _6:46 am._ He scrolled down to the second message. _Hey Counselor, if you could just respond? I wanna make sure I have the right # in case you need me._ Barba rolled his eyes. Of course this was his right number. He’d had communication with Carisi before on this line, whether it be confirmation of details for a case, or Carisi sending him some comment after a trial like _Great cross-examination!_ If Barba was being completely honest, he didn’t hate the little messages that Carisi would send him after a trial, but he’d never admit that.

Barba set down his mug and texted Carisi back. _Yes, Carisi, you have the right number. My number didn’t suddenly change in the past 72 hours._ He hit send, placing the phone and his coffee mug down on the counter. He needed to change out of the suit that he slept in and wash off the stale feeling on his body that lingered whenever he failed to make it to his own bed for sleep.

When Barba emerged from his bedroom, still toweling off his wet hair, he stopped by the window in his living room. He gazed out at the street below, more specifically, to the bench below. Carisi was sitting on the bench, wearing a maroon sweatshirt and jeans. Barba bet if Carisi turned, he would be able to make out the distinct “FORDHAM LAW” lettering on the hoodie, and he chuckled inwardly. He paused, however, taking a closer look at the backside of his colleague. Barba couldn’t recall the last time he’d ever seen Carisi in anything less than a suit, aside from Dodds’ funeral where everyone was wearing their uniforms. Carisi looked younger, hunched on that bench, and decidedly like a civilian. Barba knew that Carisi was still carrying, but the firearm was probably hidden underneath the thick lines of the sweatshirt. Overall, Barba would describe the look as inconspicuous. No one would suspect Carisi of being a cop, just some lousy law student.

Barba made his way back to the kitchen to retrieve his Blackberry and coffee that was now lukewarm. _1 new message._ Barba swiped up to see what Carisi had replied. _Sorry, just checking. You didn’t respond for a while._

 _I was doing a little something called sleeping. I doubt you’d know what that is if you sacrifice all of your free time to sit outside of District Attorneys’ apartments._ Barba sent the message off. _Also, interesting choice in outfit. You don’t look like a cop at all._

Carisi’s response came as Barba sat down at his table, getting ready to go over evidence reports and knock out some trial prep. _Well I wasn’t gonna wear a suit to sit outside of your apartment all day. And my cop uniform doesn’t get out as much since I passed the detective’s exam._

Barba wondered what Carisi would look like out on the bench, wearing his NYPD blues. He shook the image out of his head and picked up the phone, typing back _Are you having fun sitting out there, watching absolutely nothing happen?_ He sent off the message. _Here’s a spoiler, Carisi, nothing will happen. It never does. Sorry to waste your time._ Barba turned his attention back to his legal pad, trying to craft the perfect line for his opening statement.

 _You don’t know that, Counselor. And it’s fine. I’m getting some reading done while I’m out here._ Barba’s jaw dropped when he read that text.

_I knew you were incompetent, Carisi, but I didn’t know that you were incompetent enough to read on security detail when you’re trying to protect the life of an ADA._

_Relax, it’s an audiobook. And like you said- it’s not like anything’s gonna happen, right?_

Barba shook his head, turning his attention from the case to Carisi. _Well, what book is more important than my life, Carisi?_

_It’s called “Taking Rights Seriously” by Ronald Dworkin. I want to stay sharp after the bar if I’m not gonna be practicing._

Barba looked up from the phone to his bookcase. He had a copy of the same book annotated and earmarked. It was a good volume to study, especially in light of recent debates of civil disobedience and discrimination within law enforcement. Barba always wondered why Carisi chose to continue being a detective when he could have easily transitioned his career to be an ADA. Barba knew that he would have made that decision in a heartbeat, had he been in Carisi’s position. Truth be told, Carisi had always been a little bit of an enigma to Barba, a puzzle that he could never fit the last piece into. Sure, Carisi was like an open book when it came to hounding Barba like a puppy about issues that required legal expertise, but the raw emotion that Carisi brought to each case…. Thinking about caring that much made Barba’s heart hurt. There were a few times that Barba brought his own emotions to a case, but Barba knew from first-hand experience that the more you brought to a case, the worse it felt if you lost. Barba couldn’t imagine how Carisi felt when a perp got away, when he had to tell the victim their abuser got to walk free, when he had to admit to himself that sometimes the system fails. Barba sighed and put his annoyance with Carisi to the side, and he continued to work on his opening statement.

It was around one in the afternoon when Barba was finally able to put down his pen and look down at his finished product. It wasn’t the best speech he’d ever written, but it would get the job done and win over the jury, especially since he’d be going up against Buchanan in the courtroom. Barba got up from his table and walked over to the window, spotting Carisi down below. It didn’t look like the detective had moved an inch from that morning, lounging comfortably on what had to be a very uncomfortable bench, his hands resting in the front of his hoodie. Barba crossed his arms, still wondering why Carisi would voluntarily give up his weekends to what basically amounted to a sitting wild goose chase.

Carisi suddenly turned, glancing up at Barba’s window and catching Barba staring down at him. Carisi grinned and gave a wave to Barba, who immediately moved away from the window, embarrassed he had been caught looking. He was just about to go back to the kitchen and hunker down to finish his work, but his stomach growled. Barba realized he hadn’t had anything to eat all day aside from a cup of coffee, and he had accidentally foregone dinner the night before when he passed out on his couch. Barba knew it was futile to check to see if there was food in his fridge- there was never any food in his fridge. Barba sighed as he pulled out his phone and texted Carisi. _Do you want to go grab lunch?_

“So what are you up to this weekend, Counselor?” Carisi asked Barba as they walked to a sub joint around four blocks from Barba’s apartment. Carisi originally to grab food at a pizza place that was halfway across the city, but Barba drew the line. _“It’s a great slice, Counselor, you gotta try it.”_

_“I’m not about to pay $30 for a cab to get a $2 slice of mediocre pizza, Carisi.”_

_“It’s your loss,” Carisi responded, grinning, rolling with the punches._

“I’m working on a case, Carisi,” Barba replied, mentally mapping out how long it was going to take them to get their subs and head back to the apartment. He put on a little more speed, trying to keep up with Carisi and his considerably long legs. Usually, Carisi would take shorter strides when walking with the rest of the squad or with Barba, but Barba supposed that because he had been sitting for so long on that wooden bench, it probably felt good for Carisi to stretch his legs.

“Which case?”

“It’s the Nelson assault case. I’m prepping for trial, but I think after I present the state’s case in chief, Buchanan’s going to have no choice but to take a plea.” Barba allowed himself a small smile as he thought about Buchanan surrendering the case to him. By rule, Barba didn’t like defense attorneys, but trials against Buchanan always seemed like wars of attrition.

“I’m sure, Counselor. We got a strong case against Nelson.” Carisi brushed up against Barba, and Barba glanced up at Carisi confused if this contact was intentional. Carisi looked forward, giving no indication of his intentions. “So how are you prepping? You writing questions for your direct examinations, looking over depositions?”

“I just finished writing my opening statement.” Barba paused, considering his next sentence. “If you’re still trying to ‘stay sharp’ Carisi, I wouldn’t mind running it across someone, making sure I didn’t miss anything out.” Carisi glanced at Barba, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the offer of actually being able to help the ADA with a case, and at the ADA’s own behest as well. “Not that you would be able to catch anything, as that would require actual skill,” Barba added, tempering his own offer with the normal back-and-forth he and Carisi adhered to.

“Ha ha,” Carisi replied, shaking his head disbelievingly. “But honestly, if you wanna run it by me, I’m all ears. And I’m free all weekend, if you hadn’t noticed.”

When they got back to the apartment, subs in hand, Barba invited Carisi up to the apartment to eat. “I realize it’s not ideal to sit on that park bench all day. Also, don’t you have to come up to the apartment anyway to make sure no one snuck in while I was gone?”

“Fair point, Counselor, but I gotta stick to my post. I’ll go up there, give the all clear, and maybe listen to your opening if you still want to run it past me.”

“Might as well,” Barba responded, airily, and led Carisi past the doorman, up the elevator, and to the apartment. Carisi went in, first moving up the hem of his sweatshirt to reveal the concealed holster. Barba watched from the hallway as Carisi checked the living room, kitchen, but paused at the doorway to the bedroom. “By all means, go ahead and check,” Barba called out, shaking his head at Carisi’s hesitation. Carisi gave the all clear a moment later, pacing back to Barba’s doorway. “Feel free to take a seat on the couch or at the table,” Barba said, walking past Carisi. “Do you want water? Coffee? Scotch?”

“Can’t drink on patrol, Counselor. And, uh, I think I’ll stick to water for now, thank you.”

“Right, I forgot you despised the way I made coffee, Carisi.”

“What? No, I just-” Barba let Carisi try to choke out excuses, smiling with his back turned to the detective. He filled a glass with water from the tap and walked back over to Carisi, who had taken a seat at the table and was eyeing the legal pad that Barba had left there before. “Is this the opening?” Carisi asked, taking the glass from Barba with a gratuitous nod.

“Yes it is. Do you just want to look over it or…?” Barba unwrapped his sub, punctuating his open-ended question with a bite.

“I mean, I could just read it, but it wouldn’t be the same as really hearing it right?” Carisi asked, fingers playing with the corner of the yellow paper.

Barba wiped his mouth with a napkin and picked up the pad. He stood up, closing his eyes, envisioning giving the speech before an enrapt jury. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted only by an enrapt Carisi, but that would have to do. He began the speech, outlining the story to the jury, outlining the points he would prove to them with each witness he called. Carisi nodded, looking like he was taking mental notes of everything Barba was doing, every legal expression Barba was saying. Barba paused, and he decided to give Carisi a little test to see if he was really staying sharp since passing the bar. “And that’s why, at the end of the trial, you, members of the jury, must find Mr. Nelson guilty beyond a preponderance of the evidence.” Carisi blinked, and the confusion showed clear on his face. _Good,_ Barba thought to himself. _At least he hasn’t forgotten the basics._

As soon as Barba finished his opening, Carisi was quick to comment. “It was fantastic, Counselor, really.” Carisi paused, looking like he was wondering if he really wanted to comment on the mistake that Barba made. “There was just one thing. You said ‘beyond a preponderance of the evidence,’ but it’s a criminal trial. It’s beyond a reasonable doubt, Counselor.”

Barba gave Carisi a grudging smile. “I know Carisi, I was just checking to see if you were actually listening. And to see if Fordham Law-” Barba emphasized each word, pointing out the lettering on Carisi’s sweatshirt. “-actually left you with lasting knowledge.”

Barba and Carisi finished their lunch, trading knowledge on the Nelson case, suspicions and concerns on others, nothing personal, just business. When Carisi finished off his sub, he got up, checking to make sure he hadn’t spilled any crumbs on Barba’s table or on his sweatshirt. “Well, I better be off back to my post,” Carisi said, lamely, and gestured to the door. Barba gestured back to the door, giving Carisi permission to see himself out. “I’ll be down there if you need anything,” Carisi reminded Barba, pointing to the window.

“I won’t.” Barba turned his attention back to the work that was piled on the table past his sandwich. He heard the door click as Carisi left. Barba waited a minute, and he got up to the table and walked over to the window, watching as Carisi did a sweep of the street and then retook his seat on the bench. He watched as Carisi took his phone out, his thumbs dancing over the screen, and Barba’s phone vibrated in his own pocket. _If you ever want to run something by me for a case again, I’m game._

Barba paused, thinking of a response. He typed out a text and sent it back to Carisi, repositioning himself so he could still see out of the window, but at an angle where Carisi wouldn’t be able to see him if he looked back to the window. He watched as Carisi read the text. _Thanks for the offer, Counselor Carisi._ Carisi’s head whipped back to look up at the window, and Barba could see Carisi’s eyes searching for a figure in the window. Carisi looked back down at the phone, and he grinned. Barba noticed Carisi’s ears turning pink. That could’ve just been due to the cold air, but Barba would bet that it was due to something else.

On Monday, Barba got a call from Olivia. “How did it go this weekend? Was Carisi’s presence bearable?”

“Barely, but I can make do,” Barba responded, smiling. Olivia replied that she was glad that this arrangement worked out, and that Barba wasn’t being his usual difficult self. Barba found it hard to respond with a quip. For the first time in a while, he was looking forward to the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, I'm so sorry I took so long to update! It's been a crazy busy couple of weeks, but the next chapter should be up really soon! This one took me by surprise by how long it was (also writing from Barba's POV is a lot more taxing than it is writing from Sonny's-- don't worry, the next chapter will be from Sonn't POV).
> 
> Tell me what y'all think! I would love to hear feedback! Also, thank you so much for all of the lovely comments on the last chapter!


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